


sweet and right and merciful

by denimangels



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Sexual Assault, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29478252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/denimangels/pseuds/denimangels
Summary: “Oh, my god,” Fallon interrupts her musings with a moan that sounds almost orgasmic. Kirby’s mouth goes dry. “I can’t believe I left this.”Kirby doesn’t know what’s happening. She isn’t supposed to be pining over someone eating bacon - anotheralphaeating bacon, for goodness’ sake.or, kirby is a clueless lesbian and fallon isn't much help
Relationships: Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Kudos: 39





	sweet and right and merciful

**Author's Note:**

> this is just traditional abo -
> 
> alphas: more aggressive, usually dominant,  
> betas: normal people pretty much  
> omegas: softer, usually submissive
> 
> title is from cherry wine by hozier

“Who the hell are you?”

Kirby turns around, which proves to be a mistake because the moment she does, her brain immediately short-circuits.

Kirby thinks three things in a span of a few seconds.

First, _goddamn_. The woman standing in front of her is gorgeous - from the big blue eyes to the long brunette locks, she’s a sight to behold. Not to mention the crimson dress that cuts way too low to be considered work appropriate and the rhinestone-studded Louboutins that Kirby recognizes as limited edition.

Secondly, she smells _so_ good. Like cinnamon and vanilla and everything warm. Kirby is horrified when her alpha just wants to lean in and _bite_. She curls her fingers around the countertop hard enough that her knuckles turn white.

(An omega? No. Omegas aren’t supposed to look people in the eyes - this woman is practically glaring daggers at her.)

And third, Kirby realizes how much of a mess she must look right now. She’s wearing a huge, band t-shirt and fleece pajama pants decorated with cartoon sharks. And the fact that it’s three AM in the morning, and she’s watching Gilmore Girls while making an ice cream sundae (that consists solely of chocolate ice cream and Christmas-colored sprinkles) really brings the entire look together.

The woman clears her throat impatiently, and Kirby jolts, realizing that she’s still waiting for an answer.

“Uh, Kirby.” She holds out her hand, but the woman looks at her as if she’s just offered her a dead rat. Kirby quickly retracts her arm, flushing as she wipes her now sweaty palms on her t-shirt. “Kirby Anders.”

“Oh, you’re Anders’ daughter.” The woman pushes herself off of where she’s leaning against the doorframe. Kirby can’t help but admire her ass as she bends down to grab a glass and a bottle of Cabernet. “Jetlag,” she says as an explanation. If she noticed Kirby staring, she doesn’t say anything. “Not whatever sad pity party you’re throwing yourself.”

“Hey!” Kirby narrows her eyes, but before she can spew out anything more eloquent, the woman continues, “Not really what I expected when Anders mentioned he had a daughter.” She looks Kirby up and down, and clearly isn’t too impressed by what she sees. 

“And who are you?” There’s a defensive edge in Kirby’s voice, but the woman either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care (Kirby’s willing to bet money on the latter) as she pours herself a generous glass of wine. 

“Fallon.”

Although she doesn’t say her last name, Kirby can put the pieces together. Everything from the outfit that probably costs more than a years' worth of rent to the ease at which she navigates the kitchen (and the wine cooler) _screams_ Carrington.

The infamous Fallon Carrington. 

Fallon is watching her carefully over the top of her glass, though her gaze is curious rather than threatening. She holds her gaze until the tension is so thick that it’s palpable, and Kirby blinks down at her melting sundae.

A fellow alpha, Kirby decides. She mentally files away the information. 

“Right, well, enjoy your wine.” Kirby tries to glare, but it probably comes off as a grimace when she almost spills her ice cream all over the floor in her haste to leave.

She can feel Fallon’s eyes on her as she leaves the kitchen.

* * *

“Morning.” Sam’s already at the dining table when Kirby slides into her seat. He looks up from his phone to raise an eyebrow at her. “You’re up early.”

She rolls her eyes. It’s eight-thirty in the morning, which _is_ early for her, but that’s besides the point. 

Kirby immediately goes for the coffee, and if there’s one thing that she loves about the Carringtons, it’s their amazing (and expensive) taste in coffee.

It’s only been a few weeks since Kirby moved into the manor, but the luxury and wealth is already starting to become routine.

Though, the tower of breakfast pastries every morning will never not be impressive. 

“Can you pass me the cream?” Kirby nods a thanks when Sam slides the cream over to her. She dumps a generous amount into her coffee.

She and Sam had clicked almost immediately. Maybe it stemmed from the fact that he was the only non-alpha-or-omega in the house that actually understood Vine references, or that they had a mutual dislike for black coffee and would both much prefer coffees that are 90% cream and sugar, but either way, she and Sam are practically inseparable now.

“What are you doing today?” Kirby reaches across the table to grab a chocolate croissant. The chocolate is probably some top-quality, straight from the source shit, but there never seems to be enough of it, so Kirby spreads some nutella onto the croissant, licking the knife before she sets it down.

“I have to go do some work at La Mirage.” Sam types furiously with one hand as he uses the other one to shove bacon into his mouth. He’s still chewing when he continues. “We’re pretty much booked for the month.”

Kirby pouts. “But then I’ll be stuck here with Blake and Cristal. All alone.”

It’s not that they themselves are intolerable, per se -- it’s just that Kirby would much rather have some form of protection against Bonnie and Clyde.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be sitting around here all day if you got a job.” Sam gives her a pointed look, and Kirby glares at him, stealing a piece of bacon from off of his plate.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Her scent reaches Kirby first -- Kirby finds herself unconsciously gravitating towards it as Fallon strides into the room, her heels clicking against the wood.

She’s wearing a green pantsuit, except her tank top resembles lingerie more than a shirt and her Louboutins make her legs look like they go on for miles, and is it getting hot in here?

“Fallon!” Sam almost knocks over his chair in his haste to hug her. “You’re back!”

“I am. Got back last night.” Fallon awkwardly pats his back, her face twisted in confusion. “Can you…?”

“About time.” Sam releases her, grinning. “I can’t believe you left me here, alone.”

“Hey!” Kirby protests from her seat, and both sets of eyes turn to her. “I’ve been here.”

“This is Kirby, by the way. She moved in with us like, what? Two weeks ago?” Sam turns to her, and Kirby just shrugs.

“I know. I met her last night.” Fallon reaches for a plate and piles it high with bacon. “I’ve really missed this.”

“Yeah, because I’m sure the food at the Ritz in London was absolutely horrible,” Sam says dryly, dodging away with a laugh when Fallon throws a sugar packet at him.

Kirby notes with interest that she takes her coffee with two sugars. She would’ve thought that Fallon would have been a black coffee gal.

“Oh, my god,” Fallon interrupts her musings with a moan that sounds almost orgasmic. Kirby’s mouth goes dry. “I can’t believe I left this.”

Kirby doesn’t know what’s happening. She isn’t supposed to be pining over someone eating bacon - another _alpha_ eating bacon, for goodness’ sake.

Sam grins. “Well, you wouldn’t have missed this if you didn’t leave for your vacation.”

“It was a business trip.” Fallon wipes the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “And besides, I’m back for good, now.”

“Oh, joy.”

Fallon rolls her eyes, taking one more sip of coffee before she stands. “I have to go attend a meeting. Try not to burn down the house while I’m gone.

Kirby doesn’t even have time to say bye before she’s strutting off in those ridiculous heels that make her ass look so good.

She misses the knowing look Sam throws her way.

* * *

The room is utterly silent, save the sounds of silverware against plates and the occasional cough.

Kirby pokes at her steak. When Sam had told her that Carrington dinners were bad, she didn’t think they would be _this_ bad. She feels like she’s slowly being suffocated.

The five of them are gathered in the dining room for what’s supposed to be a warm, welcome back dinner for Fallon. After Blake and Cristal had given their “welcome back!”’s and “we’re glad you’re home!”’s, dinner had turned into the Quiet Game. 

Even more suffocating than the silence, though, is the strong mix of pheromones that fill the air. Cristal is emitting some kind of sickly, floral scent that _reeks_ (a bonded omega), and Blake has an equally sickly, muskier scent that’s making the hairs on Kirby’s arms stand up (an alpha -- a defensive one).

Luckily, Sam is sitting next to her, and his scent is calming enough that she’s able to sit still, even though she’s still too nauseous to actually eat anything.

Sam looks utterly content as he digs into his food, and Kirby suddenly remembers that betas don’t have a heightened sense of smell like alphas and omegas do. She immediately envies Sam’s ignorance, watching as he practically inhales the food on his plate. He’s the only one in the room that’s actually eating.

And then, there’s Fallon. She smells good as ever, but her scent is tainted with… something that Kirby can’t quite put her finger on. Either way, she still looks composed and put together, even though she hasn’t touched her dinner, and she’s already on her second glass of wine.

It’s quiet for a few more minutes, before Blake breaks the silence. “How was your trip, Fallon?”

Fallon sets down her fork. “It went well. I got some important business done, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good, good.” Blake clears his throat. After a second of silence, he continues. “Why don’t we bring out dessert?”

“I can go get it,” Kirby volunteers immediately, almost speaking over Blake. “I’m sure my father is exhausted.”

Kirby practically scurries into the kitchen, taking a deep breath of relief when she enters the kitchen.

“Awful, right?”

Kirby whirls around, almost knocking over a glass in her haste. “What is with you and sneaking up on me?”

Fallon just smirks. “Magic.”

“Yeah, right.” Kirby averts her eyes, pretending that that smirk isn’t doing plenty of things to her. “Um. I’ll grab three, you grab two?” She gestures towards the plates of tiramisu spread across the kitchen counter.

Fallon raises an eyebrow. “You think I came in here to help?”

And so, she finds herself balancing all five plates in her arms.

“Don’t drop them,” Fallon calls over her shoulder as she re-enters the dining room. Kirby grits her teeth.

She manages to get the plates safely to the table, but, with her luck, she stumbles right as she’s making her way back to her seat, and she can only balance herself by leaning onto the dining table.

Only when she’s catching her breath from her near-death accident does she realise how quiet everyone has gone, and then, _oh shit_ , what position she’s currently in.

She has Fallon pressed against the edge of the table, her hands on either side of her body, and they’re so close that she can feel Fallon’s breath against her cheek, and she just wants to lean in and hear Fallon whimper, and _beg_ , and _oh, god_ \- 

“Oh, god.” Kirby jumps away. Her cheeks are burning. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

Kirby blinks when she notices that Fallon’s cheeks are flushed, and her pupils are dilated. Before she can say anything else, Fallon snaps, “Don’t touch me,” and Kirby can only stare as she stalks off.

Kirby mentally berates herself. What has gotten into her? Alphas don’t mix with other alphas, yet Kirby can’t seem to shake Fallon out of her system.

“Yeah, I think, um, I think I’m gonna go, too.” Kirby clears her throat. She turns, ready to make her exit.

“Kirby.” Blake’s voice is stern, and Kirby immediately freezes in her spot. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but that was completely unacceptable.”

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to,” Kirby stammers. “It was an accident, I swear.”

“I really thought you were going to be different, but I guess we are all the same breed.” Blake looks at her impassively, ignoring her words. “I know that Fallon’s personality is unconventional for her type.”

Kirby stares. What?

“But if you hurt her -” Blake cocks his head to the side, his eyes piercing - “you _will_ regret it.”

* * *

“Come on. We’re going shopping.” 

Kirby glances up, startled, from where she’s binging Netflix. “What?”

“Are you deaf? We’re going shopping.” Fallon rolls her eyes, lifting her sunglasses onto her head. “Monica’s not available, so I’m left with you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Kirby says sarcastically, but she stands and grabs her purse, anyways.

After the incident at dinner, Kirby had been looking for a moment to talk to Fallon, and this just so happens to be the perfect opportunity. 

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I’m so sorry about what happened the other night,” Kirby starts as she climbs into Fallon’s car. 

Fallon turns to glare at her. “I will kick you out of the car if you keep on talking.”

Kirby immediately shuts up. She doesn’t want to sink any lower in Fallon’s graces.

“You’re just here to shop with me and give me opinions that I’ll probably ignore.” Fallon jams her keys into the ignition. “Got it?”

“Yep,” Kirby all but squeaks. 

And that’s that.

* * *

Kirby had been considering looking for a job for a while now, and when Fallon had complained about needing a new assistant (after she’d fired the last three), it was like the universe was telling her that now was the time.

So, here she is, sprawled across the couch in Fallon’s office on a Tuesday afternoon. Kirby had brought lunch with her, and even she’s willing to admit that she had gone a little overboard in trying to please Fallon (for the job, of course; nothing else).

She’d even brought Fallon’s favorite cake, handmade by Mrs. Gunnerson, though it had gotten a little squished on the trip over here, and the little florets on the cake are completely destroyed. 

“Come on!” Kirby takes a bite of the cake. Just like she’d imagined, the cake still tastes amazing, even in its slightly ravished state. “You know I’d be perfect for the job.”

“No, Kirby.” Fallon looks up at her with raised eyebrows, before returning to the paperwork in front of her. 

She and Fallon have become closer in the past few weeks from all of their impromptu shopping sprees and late-night drinks - so much so that Kirby is able to stop outwardly reacting to Fallon’s presence every time they see each other. It’s a big step. For Kirby, at least.

Still, Kirby can’t help but notice that she smells different today, more floral than her usual vanilla scent. Maybe it’s her perfume. 

Kirby mentally shakes herself, remembering why she was here in the first place. “But you need an assistant!” Kirby crosses her arms over her chest. “And I’m completely available.”

“Of course you are.” Fallon puts down her pen, turning her focus to Kirby. (They both know that she wasn’t getting any work done. She hadn’t turned a single page in the last ten minutes.)

“Will you leave me alone if I consider it?” Fallon leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh, my god! You’re the best!” Kirby practically jumps off the couch, dancing around the room. She even thinks about hugging Fallon, but then decides against it when she remembers her conversation with Blake.

Fallon blinks at her reaction. “I haven’t even said ‘yes’ yet!”

Kirby rolls her eyes. 

“Fine. I’ll consider you,” Fallon says, as if this is the single most difficult decision in her life. “Now, shoo. I actually have work to do.”

* * *

“And this… is your office.” Fallon gestures towards a room that connects to her own office.

Kirby can’t help but gasp when she enters the office. It’s small, but it has a window that overlooks the Atlanta skyline, and it’s hers, and for the first time since she’s arrived in Georgia, she feels like she’s actually doing something with her life.

“Don’t get too excited,” Fallon says dryly. “I can fire you at any time.”

Kirby is barely listening as she slides into the chair, leaning back and propping her feet on the desk. “Wow, Fallon. This is perfect.”

“Yeah, well.” Fallon straightens, tugging at the cuff of her blazer. “First order of business. Get me a coffee.”

“Aye, aye captain!” Kirby mock salutes her before springing to her feet and practically waltzing out of the office. 

“Two sugars!” Fallon calls after her.

Kirby grins.

* * *

“This is my assistant, Kirby.” Fallon straightens her papers on the desk. “She’s going to be sitting in on this meeting, if you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.” The author (Larry? Or Landon? Maybe Logan?) slides into a seat across from Fallon. He’s what Kirby likes to think is the stereotypical alpha, with his muscular arms, sharp jawline, and strong features. And his scent - musky, earthy, edging on pungent - fills the room.

“So, Liam.” Fallon folds her hands together in front of her _(Oh, Liam)_. “I noticed that you don’t yet have a publisher for your book, and I think that our company would be a perfect fit.”

“Are you sure that someone like you can handle this?” Liam cocks his head to the side. “I want everything for my book to be perfect.”

“Yes, Mr. Ridley.” Fallon smiles, chuckling. Her business-flirty smile, Kirby immediately recognizes. “I assure you, our company will make your launch perfect.”

“No, Fallon. I’m asking if someone like _you_ can handle it.” 

Kirby frowns. Fallon’s face doesn’t change, but her fingers tighten in their interlocked position. “Mr. Ridley, I can show you our statistics if you’d like, but -” 

“Let’s say that I do bring my book here,” Liam interrupts. He’s looking at Fallon in a way that’s bordering on leering, and Kirby clenches her hands into fists to stop herself from doing something that will get her fired. “What will you do for me?”

“Oh!” Fallon grabs a stack of papers and slips off the paper clip so that she can spread them individually across the desk. “Well, we would have launching parties, book-signing events all over the coun-”

“No, sweetheart.” Fallon grits her teeth, whether at the term of endearment, or being interrupted for a second time. “What would _you_ do for me? Normally, I’d immediately reject someone like you,” Liam’s not even trying to hide his ogling anymore, “but your body really would be worth it.”

“Hey!” Kirby yells at the same moment that Fallon slaps him.

“Get out,” Fallon growls. She is radiating anger. “Now.”

Liam doesn’t move from his seat. “God, sweetheart, calm down.” He turns to Kirby, an eyebrow raised. “I don’t know how you work with her. You’ve never been tempted?”

It’s Kirby’s turn to slap him this time.

“Get out, or I’m going to call security,” Fallon threatens, her voice low with warning.

“Okay, okay.” Liam stands, moving towards the door. “I’m leaving.” 

Kirby slams the door in his face.

“He’s such a douche! God!” Kirby growls. She’s this close to putting a hole through the wall, and it wasn’t even to her that Liam had directed his vulgarity to.

“It’s fine, Kirby.” Fallon sounds strangely resigned. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a small canteen that Kirby has only seen Fallon use twice - once when Fallon had lost an important client, and ten minutes later when Blake had stalked in with a storm of profanities. “Really. Can you calm down?”

“How are you so calm?” Kirby paces back and forth. She can still smell Liam in the room, and it’s just making her more and more angry. “Did you not just see the way he treated you?”

Fallon shrugs, unscrewing the lid of her canteen. She seems to consider pouring it into her coffee, but bypasses her cup completely and drinks straight from the canteen. “I’m used to it.”

Kirby looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “So you’re just gonna sit here and drink yourself into oblivion?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Fallon’s eyes are dark with resentment. “You got the lucky end of the stick. People don’t underestimate you because of the way you were born.”

“What?” Kirby frowns. “You’re a Carrington. You are literally the highest in the food chain.”

Fallon gives her a look of incredulity as she takes another swig. “I have to get some more work done.”

Kirby frowns, but Fallon’s already turning back to her work.

She doesn’t even look up from her papers when she leaves.

* * *

“And that calls for a celebration!” Kirby holds up a hand for a high-five, but Fallon just glares at her until she puts it down.

It’s only been a week since the Liam incident, but Fallon’s already seemed to have forgotten about it, and Kirby’s not going to bring it up.

Especially since they’ve just signed a new author that paid _way_ more than what Liam had offered. 

“I have to finish the paperwork. Unlike some people, I actually have work to do.” The obvious insult in her words comes off more as teasing, though, as Fallon can’t keep the smile off of her face.

“Oh, come on.” Kirby glances down at her watch. “It’s already 1:00! You have to eat at some point.”

“I’ll have something delivered.” Fallon shrugs, flipping open her folder. But before she can actually start working, Kirby swipes the papers from her and holds them above her head.

“No, not happening,” Kirby says, grinning when Fallon glares at her. “I, as your assistant and friend -”

“You’re pushing it.” 

She purposely ignores that statement. “- am taking you out to lunch. To celebrate our victory. I’ll buy.”

Fallon rolls her eyes, but Kirby’s already beaming because she knows she’s already won. “Fine. But I have to be back before 2:00.”

“Okay, okay. Come on.”

* * *

Fallon takes her to Bacchanalia, and Kirby immediately regrets offering to pay.

“You don’t pay me nearly enough for this,” Kirby protests, holding the door open for Fallon.

“I’m paying,” Fallon says.

Kirby immediately stops protesting.

She waits awkwardly by the door while Fallon talks to a waitress, rummaging through her purse for her lipstick. As she’s reapplying, she picks out the words “reservation needed”, and “Carrington. Fallon Carrington”, and then “right this way”.

She rolls her eyes.

The waitress seats them at a table in the corner, and they’ve been here enough that it’s almost routine the way Fallon immediately slides into the booth, and Kirby into the chair. 

“Glad we did this?” Kirby teases her with a grin.

“No,” Fallon immediately replies. They both know that she’s lying. “Though I am glad that we’re here, not in some sketchy cafe that you would’ve chosen.”

“Hey!” Kirby playfully swats at her arm, and Fallon laughs, and _fuck_.

Fallon’s scent is overwhelmingly strong today, and Kirby had managed to push it out of her mind when they were meeting with the author. Now, though, it’s almost impossible to ignore, especially since she’s sitting so close to Fallon.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom.” Kirby sounds flustered even to her own ears, but before Fallon can say anything, she’s already standing and walking over to the bathroom.

Kirby locks the door behind her, before turning to look at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks are flushed, and her pupils are dilated, and _what is wrong with her today?_

She turns the tap on, splashing some cold water onto her face. It seems to help a little. Kirby wipes the droplets off with a paper towel, thanking the lord above that she’d chosen to wear waterproof mascara today. After taking one last look into the mirror, Kirby deems herself okay enough to leave the bathroom. 

Which proves to be a huge mistake.

The moment she steps out, she’s overwhelmed by the smell of a heat, and she has to hold onto the door frame to keep herself from falling over.

_Shit. What is someone on their heat doing in public?_

She forces herself to start moving to the table, already making a plan to convince Fallon to leave. But the scent is getting stronger and stronger the closer she gets to their table.

_Holy shit._

It’s Fallon. Fallon is the omega.

And she’s currently cornered by an alpha. He has Fallon pressed up against the wall, one hand on her thigh and the other gripping her jaw.

“Aw, sweetheart,” the alpha coos, and an unpleasant memory of Liam invades Kirby’s brain. “You seem like you need some help.”

“Get off.” Fallon tries to push him off, but he grabs her wrists in one hand and pins them above her head. Fallon whimpers almost pathetically.

“You’re not going anywhere, babygirl.” He leans in, and that’s enough to jolt Kirby back into action. Nobody around her seems to notice anything, so Kirby stalks forward, praying that she’s not about to get Fallon or herself beaten up.

“Get off of her!” She shoves him off, and he lands on his ass on the floor.

“Hey, lady, I don’t know who you think you are, but I saw her first.” He stands, wiping his hands on his jacket. “Now get out of my way.”

Kirby kicks him in the crotch, and he doubles over in pain. “You. Are. Disgusting. Do you know who her father is? Blake Carrington.” At the name drop, his eyes widen in horror. “If you don’t leave, I will make your life hell.”

“Okay, okay.” He stands, hands up in surrender. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving.”

Kirby watches him until they leave the restaurant, and only then does she slide into the booth next to Fallon.

“Fallon?” Kirby gently strokes her hair, and Fallon immediately leans into her touch. “Are you okay?”

Fallon just whimpers.

Kirby racks her brain for information from her eighth grade sex-ed class. She thinks she remembers learning that an omega in heat needs to be touching an alpha for as long as possible, and Kirby thinks that it’s worth a shot.

“Do you want to sit in my lap?” At Fallon’s nod, Kirby gently tugs her forward so that she can climb into her lap. “I’m going to call Blake, okay?”

Fallon nods again, before tucking her face into the crook of Kirby’s neck. She looks through her phone, frowning when she realises that she doesn’t have Blake’s, or Cristal’s, contact. So, she goes for the next best option.

“Hey, Kirby. I’m kind of really busy here.”

“Sam! Thank god.” Kirby can hear the relief evident in her own voice. “Sam, Fallon just went into heat, and we’re out at lunch right now, and I didn’t have Blake or Cristal’s number.”

“Oh, shit.” There’s some muffled shouting before Sam comes back onto the phone. “Okay. What do you need?”

“Can you come pick us up?” Kirby fights to keep her voice steady. “We’re at Bacchanalia, and we didn’t bring the car.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Kirby distantly hears the sound of a car unlocking. “It’ll be like five minutes. Do you know what to do?”

“Yeah, I think I can manage.”

Sam hangs up on her.

“Okay. Okay.” Kirby takes a few steadying breaths before returning her attention to Fallon. She’s practically wrapped herself around Kirby, and it would be adorable if Kirby wasn’t so anxious. Already, her panic is quickly wearing off, and Kirby’s starting to feel the effects of Fallon’s heat. Kirby tries to think about dead puppies and sad movies. This is _not_ the time to be aroused.

“Fallon, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Fallon mumbles into her neck.

“Okay, good.” Kirby shifts to put her phone away, and in the movement, her leg slides up against Fallon.

Fallon immediately grinds against her, moaning softly into her ear, and Kirby freezes. It takes all of her willpower to keep from shoving Fallon against the table and fucking her senseless right here.

“Fallon…” She’s more than grateful that they have a table in the corner. 

Kirby moves slowly, trying not to do any more damage than she already has. 

Fallon takes that choice away from her when she grasps her hand and practically shoves it up her skirt. Kirby’s eyes bulge out of her head, and she has to bite back a groan when she realises that Fallon’s panties are soaked.

But before she does anything reckless, she tugs her hand free, trying to ignore the desperate whine that leaves Fallon. She gently pulls back from Fallon to look her in the eyes. Her eyes are bluer than she remembers, and Kirby swears she can see liquid water rise up in her pupils.

“Sam’s about to come get us, okay? I just need you to hold out until we get home.” Kirby gently grasps her chin, tilting her face so that Fallon’s looking at her. “Can you do that for me?”

Fallon nods slowly.

“Good girl.” Kirby wraps an arm around her waist so that she doesn’t fall. “It's going to be okay.”

Not even a minute later, Fallon is practically riding her thigh. Kirby strokes her back, trying hard to ignore the way Fallon is grinding against her and the breathy mewls that are spilling from her lips. She can feel her own resolve breaking, and she’s this close to just dragging Fallon into the bathroom and -

As if rehearsed, Sam bursts through the door. “Oh, my god. Okay, let’s get you home.”

* * *

Kirby doesn’t see Fallon for the next three days. 

The only sign that Fallon’s still in the house is the constant stream of maids that enter and leave her room, but even then, the manor still feels a lot emptier.

“Does this happen often?” Kirby asks on the first day at breakfast. She frowns when she realises that they’re out of nutella. 

“Yeah.” Sam shrugs, stabbing a strawberry with his fork. He’d mentioned something about a health campaign for his social media platforms, but Kirby hadn’t thought that he was going to take it seriously. She was wrong, clearly, if his plate of fruit (and only fruit) is anything to go by. “She just disappears for a few days.”

“Does she… need any help?” Kirby shifts uncomfortably in her seat when Sam stares at her. “I mean, you know. She’s done so much for me, it would be the least I can do.”

“Wanna be her alpha in shining armor?” Sam smirks at her, before taking a sip of what looks like swamp water. He groans. “This is so bad. Kale in smoothies is wrong on so many levels.”

“Okay, forget I asked,” Kirby says. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait.” Sam sets down his smoothie. “Fallon loves chocolate. Especially when she’s in heat. Helps her, I don’t know,” he shrugs, “energize after masturbating for hours on end.”

Kirby swats him on the arm, grimacing. “Okay. That’s enough information. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Sam winks at her as she stands. “Go get your girl.”

* * *

Kirby hadn’t really given herself time to actually think since Bacchanalia, and it isn’t until she’s standing in the middle of Target’s candy aisle when the pieces start clicking together.

The way Blake had reacted at dinner, the way Liam had acted, the way Fallon always smells so good. And the way Fallon had grinded desperately against her thigh, her little moans and whimpers, and -

“Excuse me?” An older lady with a shopping cart is staring at her weirdly, and Kirby realises that she's standing in the middle of the aisle. “Can you move?”

“Oh, sorry!” Kirby flushes, jolting back so that the lady can pass. 

She blinks at the rows and rows of chocolate in front of her. She stares for another moment, before giving up and shoving one of each type into her basket. Who knows? Fallon may be a Snickers type of gal.

For extra measure, she even tosses a few bags of chocolate cookies into the pile.

The cashier stares at her as she dumps her entire basket of chocolate onto the conveyor belt. “Someone special?”

“More or less.” Kirby shrugs, swiping her credit card when prompted. 

“Well, I’m sure he’s one lucky man,” the cashier says offhandedly as he bags her chocolate.

“Woman.” Kirby offers him a halfhearted smile.

And besides. Kirby’s only attracted to Fallon like she’s attracted to every other omega. There’s nothing more to it. They’re just friends. Friends who buy each other entire aisles of chocolate, friends who go to fancy lunches together, friends who sit in each other’s laps.

Friends.

And yet -

Kirby swallows.

and yet.

* * *

“Morning, Sam.” Kirby doesn’t look up from her phone when she hears footsteps entering the dining room.

“No, but good morning to you too.”

Kirby blinks. That’s most definitely not Sam’s voice. Fallon. Her head whips up so quickly that she’s surprised she doesn’t break her neck.

Fallon looks like she’s about to get inaugurated or something with the perfect, winged eyeliner and monochromatic suit while Kirby’s still in her pajamas, and she flashes back to when they’d first met at 3 am in the kitchen. 

Back when Fallon was some mysterious, unnamed woman, Kirby was Kirby, and Fallon and Kirby wasn’t even a thought that crossed Kirby’s mind.

Now, Fallon is Fallon, Kirby is Kirby, and thoughts of Fallon and Kirby make her heart throb.

“Oh, you’re… alive,” Kirby says. She regrets it not even a second later, mentally smacking herself because that might just be the dumbest thing she’s ever said.

“Well, you could at least sound a bit more excited.” Fallon rolls her eyes as she reaches for the bacon. 

“I am! I am.” Fallon raises an eyebrow at her, and Kirby forces herself to breathe.

Fallon frowns, dropping her fork onto her plate. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I -” _I just really, really like you, and you probably don’t feel the same way because you’re Fallon_ fucking _Carrington._ “I’m just really glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.” Fallon doesn’t quite look like she’s convinced that Kirby’s okay, but she continues on. “We have a lot of work to do today, so get ready.”

* * *

Kirby’s just about ready to collapse when she gets back to her room. Fallon hadn’t been lying when she said there was a lot of work to be done.

Now, all she wants to do is go take a hot bath, and then binge Netflix until she falls asleep. Or better yet, take a hot bath while watching Netflix. She’s still changing into her robe when someone knocks very aggressively on the door.

“Fallon?” Kirby opens the door a crack, frowning.

“Hi.” Fallon grins at her, pushing the door all the way open and waltzing into her room. “Come on.”

Kirby forces herself not to react when Fallon catches her hand in her own and tugs her out of the room. 

“Where are we going?” Kirby yelps when she bumps into a wall. “Fallon?”

“Oh, be quiet.” Fallon guides her out to the balcony, where the last of the sun’s rays are starting to disappear. Kirby shivers in the cool air. “You haven’t had dinner yet. Think of this as my gift to you, for helping me with everything.”

Kirby blinks. She feels like she just stepped into the set of the Bachelorette. There’s a table in the middle of the balcony, lit with candles and laid with plates of food that are already making Kirby’s mouth water. She wanders towards the table.

“Wow, Fallon. You really didn’t have to do this.” Kirby settles in her seat. “Did you make all this?”

“Oh, god no.” Fallon frowns, pouring them both a glass of wine. “Do you want to die?”

Kirby chuckles.

“Does this mean we’re friends now?” Kirby raises an eyebrow at Fallon’s silence. “We’re having dinner together. We’re practically besties.”

Fallon pouts. “Fine. But only because you brought me an entire store's worth of chocolate. And I’m not braiding your hair.”

Kirby smirks. “What about a secret handshake?”

Later, when they’re both wine-drunk and giggly, Fallon _does_ braid Kirby’s hair, and Kirby falls asleep to the feeling of Fallon’s gentle fingers combing through her knots. And when Kirby walks into breakfast with hair that resembles a birds’ nest, Fallon bursts into giggles, and they both end up rolling on the floor in laughter.

It’s right then that Kirby realises she’s so, _so_ fucked.

* * *

Tuesday night dinners quickly become a regular part of Kirby’s schedule. Tonight, the menu consists of greasy Chinese food and ice cream straight from the pint.

“So.” Fallon twirls her lo mein around her fork. “The Carrington Fundraiser is this Friday. You should come with me.”

“As a date?” Kirby raises her eyebrows. She reaches across the table to steal a piece of Fallon’s edamame. Fallon swats her hand away.

“Yeah. The fundraisers are always swarmed with rich assholes who are straight-up creeps. And it might help…” She trails off. Fallon’s blush is visible, even in the dim lighting. 

“... if a big, bad alpha was there to protect you,” Kirby finishes, smirking when Fallon’s blush deepens. “Yeah, I’m game. Sounds like fun, pretending to be _the_ Fallon Carrington’s girlfriend.”

Fallon spears another bite of noodles, chewing thoughtfully. “Okay. So we need to match outfits. I’m thinking red? Or green. Blue is way overworn.”

Kirby rolls her eyes at Fallon’s fake gag. “Eat your food, Fallon.”

Once they’ve gone through enough Chinese food to feed an army, Kirby opens the fortune cookies.

“It’s more fun when you add ‘in bed’ after,” Kirby says, cracking open her cookie. “‘Curiosity kills boredom. Nothing can kill curiosity’… in bed.”

Fallon snorts. “‘Expect much of yourself and little of others’... in bed.”

Kirby grins. “Well, that sounds about right.”

“Clearly, you need better partners in bed.” Fallon smirks at her, tossing the wrapper of her fortune cookie into the trash.

“You wanna help with that?” Fallon’s smirk immediately drops from her face, and Kirby laughs. “That’s what I thought. I bet you’re a pillow princess.”

Fallon smacks her on the arm. “Hey! I leave my partners very satisfied.”

“Sure, sure.” Kirby holds Fallon’s gaze as she pops her maraschino cherry into her mouth, making sure to even add a little moan of content.

She smirks when Fallon squirms in her chair and averts her eyes. 

“You know.” Kirby scoops some ice cream onto her spoon, shoveling it into her mouth before the sprinkles can fall. “I really don’t think blue is overworn.”

* * *

Kirby flattens her tie between her fingers, admiring how silky the material is. She knots her tie, carefully tugging it until it’s tight around her neck.

“Wow.” Kirby watches through the mirror as Fallon steps into the room. 

Kirby whirls around, tugging nervously at the collar of her shirt. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” Fallon steps closer, her eyes glued to her body. “Yeah, it’s really… really nice.”

“Hm.” Kirby hums, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles from her blazer. “I thought it’d match the theme.”

They’d ended up choosing navy blue. Not too overworn, but still blue enough that it brings out Fallon’s eyes, so they’re both winning. The color’s weaved in all throughout her outfit - from her stilettos to her tie to her pocket square.

Fallon’s still in her work clothes, but she’s kicked off her stilettos in favor of fur slides, and Kirby blinks at how many inches she has on her.

“I’ve never realised how short you are,” Kirby teases as she adjusts her tie. “It’s kinda cute.”

“You’re wearing heels!” Fallon pouts. “Be nice. I brought you a present.” She reaches into the pocket of her dress to pull out a small box bound with a navy ribbon.

“I know that we’re close, but it might be a little early for a proposal,” Kirby quips, grinning as Fallon hands it over to her. “You’re not even gonna get on one knee?”

Fallon rolls her eyes. “Just open it.”

Kirby tugs the end of the ribbon until it loosens, and opens the box. Inside is a set of cufflinks, the signature Bvlgari logo circling a navy gem.

“Wow. They’re beautiful,” Kirby breathes. She runs a finger over the engraved letters. “Thank you, Fallon.”

“Yeah, well.” Fallon clears her throat. “I couldn’t have you wearing some cheap, plastic cufflinks to a Carrington Foundation.”

Kirby snorts.

“Believe me, people notice.” Fallon turns on her heel. “I have to go get changed.”

Kirby blinks back at the cufflinks, turning them over in the palm of her hand. She knows that gifts like these are practically worth nothing to the Carringtons, but something about the cufflinks feels special.

Maybe she’s just projecting.

Either way, Kirby carefully fastens them onto the cuff of her dress shirt, twisting them so that half of the words are upright, and the other half are upside down.

Kirby tilts her head to the side as she studies herself in the reflection. She looks good— the pantsuit had been a good idea, and she mentally claps herself on the back. She looks like an all power business woman about to take over the world.

So, Fallon, pretty much.

Just as the thought pops into her head, the woman in question glides back into the room.

And Kirby’s jaw drops.

The dress Fallon’s wearing must have been made to be ripped off, because that’s all Kirby wants to do right now. It’s a tight, strappy little thing that’s just classy enough to pass as an evening gown, but reveals enough skin to be classified under the category of rippable-and-very-fuckable.

“What do you think?” Fallon does a little twirl for her. “I made sure the colors matched.”

“You look gorgeous,” Kirby says when she’s able to pick her jaw up off the ground. “Stunning.”

Fallon blushes, and it’s so cute compared to her sexyfuck ensemble that Kirby has to physically hold herself back from shoving her against the wall and taking her right there.

_Calm down, Kirby._

“Uh,” Kirby clears her throat, “you ready?” She holds out an arm for Fallon to hold onto, and regrets it a moment later when she can feel the warmth of Fallon’s hand through the material of her blazer.

They reach the balcony overlooking the party, and Kirby stiffens at the sight of people milling around, anxiety crawling up in her stomach. The party’s already in full swing, even though they’re still a little early, and Kirby worries, not for the first time, about how she’ll probably stick out like a sore thumb.

“Nervous?” Fallon’s voice is gentle in her ear, and there’s nothing but sincerity in her eyes as she looks up at Kirby.

“Nope.” Kirby shakes herself. “Of course not. I’m your big, bad alpha for the night, remember?”

“Don’t worry.” Fallon smirks. “You’re with me. Nobody will be looking at you.”

And with that, Fallon leads her downstairs.

“Fallon!” Some alpha stops them almost immediately. “It’s been so long!”

“Will. Long time no see.” Fallon smiles politely, pulling back when he leans in for a hug. Will clears his throat awkwardly.

“Yeah, uh.” Will gives her a disgustingly unsubtle once-over. “I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink sometime?”

“No, sorry.” Fallon leans into Kirby, and she takes the hint, wrapping her arm around her waist to tug her into her side. “This is my girlfriend, Kirby.”

Kirby hates how good that sentence sounds coming from Fallon’s mouth.

“Oh! I didn’t realise you were into girls.” Will tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah.” Fallon raises an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“Uh, no. Good to see you!” Kirby smirks at the way he practically scurries away.

“Well, that worked better than I thought,” Fallon says as they venture further into the party. 

“Of course it did.” Kirby grins, swiping two champagne flutes off of a server’s tray. “I’m your big, bad alpha.”

Fallon glares at her, but she doesn’t move from where she’s tucked into Kirby’s side. “Don’t push it.”

* * *

“God, how is _everybody_ interested in you?” Kirby asks after fending off the fifth, sixth? -- she’s lost track -- guy of the night. She leans against the bar.

“Because they’re all pretentious alphas, and I’m the omega daughter of the richest family in Atlanta.” Fallon motions at the bartender for another round.

Kirby admires the graceful arc of Fallon’s neck as she throws back a shot.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep me around.” Kirby averts her eyes, clearing her throat as she reaches for a glass. 

Fallon hums in response. “Come on. Let’s go dance.”

She should’ve known that Fallon would be a dirty dancer. She’s not subtle about it, either, moving in a way that would’ve made any guy’s mouth go dry with jealousy as she tugs Kirby’s arms around her so that she’s tucked in against her front. 

“You’re like a statue,” Fallon teases into her ear, and her voice is low and raspy, and she’s still moving against her, practically grinding against her thigh in a way that leaves Kirby barely able to think straight. “Move with me. Yeah, just like that.”

Kirby can feel people’s eyes on them, but she finds herself unable to care as she sways against Fallon, her arms tightening around her waist.

Fallon twists in her arms, and suddenly, they’re so close that Kirby can feel the warmth of Fallon’s breath against her skin, and she had been right -- the navy does bring out Fallon’s eyes, and they’re so blue that Kirby can see the ocean when she looks into them -- and she leans in, and _they’re so close_ -

“Fallon?” 

Fallon jerks away from Kirby’s grip immediately, and Kirby almost groans in disappointment. “Daddy. Hi.”

“You need to talk to these investors.” Blake doesn’t acknowledge, or even seem to notice Kirby at all. “They won’t listen to a word I say.”

“And they’ll listen to me because I’m an omega woman?” Fallon rolls her eyes, straightening out her dress where it had climbed up her thigh.

“That’s how business works.” Blake doesn’t even sound the slightest bit apologetic as he leads Fallon towards the poker tables.

“I’ll see you later,” Fallon calls to Kirby behind her shoulder, and then, she’s swallowed in the crowd. She doesn’t see Fallon again for the rest of the party.

* * *

“Hey.” Fallon knocks on her door as she walks in. “Sorry for ditching you at the party.”

“I didn’t realize you were supposed to knock after you came in.” Kirby smirks from where she’s sitting on the edge of her bed. “Guess I’ve been doing it wrong.”

“Haha, very funny,” Fallon deadpans. 

She’s still wearing her dress from the party, but Fallon has loosened her hair from its pinned up position, and it’s now falling in soft curls around her face.

Kirby resists the urge to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. “Is the party over?”

“The guests are gone, yes, but Blake and Cristal are doing god knows what in the study.” Fallon rolls her eyes. “It’s like the woman’s in heat year-round.”

Kirby chuckles at that.

Fallon rubs her eyes, and a little bit of her eyeliner smudges from her sharp wings.

“Here, you have -” Kirby moves too quickly, and the bed shifts so that she has to hold onto Fallon to keep herself from falling back, and she must use a little more force than she intends because, somehow, Fallon lands almost completely on Kirby’s lap.

Kirby’s already feeling her stomach knot because she can almost hear Fallon shoving her away and telling her that this is sexual assault or something. Instead, though, Fallon holds onto Kirby’s shoulders to balance herself, and Kirby has to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from falling back.

“Are you okay?” Kirby asks tentatively, as if speaking any louder will scare Fallon into pulling away.

“Yeah,” Fallon breathes.

This time, she’s the one to lean in. Fallon’s lips are incredibly soft against her own, and Kirby’s hands immediately tighten around her waist, pulling her closer. Fallon whimpers in the back of her throat, and god Kirby’s been waiting so long to do this that actually kissing Fallon feels more like a dream than reality.

Kirby thinks three things in a span of a few seconds.

First, _goddamn_. Fallon is gorgeous, even when her makeup is smudged and her hair is all soft and tangled and her dress is rucked up around her waist. She’s a sight to behold.

Secondly, she smells _so_ good. Kirby can’t help but lean in and bite at the juncture where Fallon’s neck meets her shoulder. Her fingers tighten on Fallon’s waist as she holds her tighter against herself.

(An omega. A beautiful one that’s looking at her with nothing but wonder in her eyes.)

And third, Kirby realises how much of a mess they must look right now. Kirby, in a huge band t-shirt and dress pants and stilettos, and Fallon sprawled across her lap in a custom-made, designer dress and jewelry that probably costs six digits. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Fallon murmurs against her lips, arching when Kirby nips at her bottom lip. 

“Nothing.” Kirby begins pressing soft kisses down the column of her throat. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

How beautiful _they_ are.

Fallon is Fallon, Kirby is Kirby, and Fallon and Kirby...

(“Fallon and Kirby.”

 _It does have a nice ring to it_ , Kirby thinks, and _Fallon is so beautiful in white._

“I now pronounce you, wife and wife.”)

**Author's Note:**

> nope, im not writing any abo smut


End file.
